


A Less Than Perfect Padawan

by Telesilla



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Kink, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-15
Updated: 1999-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon's Padawan lover needs to be taken firmly in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Less Than Perfect Padawan

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon Jinn said to his lover. "Is there any tea left?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question. Qui-Gon was sitting in his big chair reading through the pile of junk mail that accumulated in his mail account during their last mission. Obi-Wan was sprawled on the sofa, making his own notations to Qui-Gon's mission report. The teapot was on the table in front of Obi-Wan.

"Check it yourself," Obi-Wan said, without looking up.

Qui-Gon frowned slightly. It was most unlike his apprentice to be so rude to him and he almost wondered if the young man was . . . Of course he was. Ever since they'd become lovers six months ago, Obi-Wan had been seen to be the perfect Padawan. He'd drilled fanatically, whether on missions or at the Temple; he'd done extra-credit projects in all his classes; hell, he'd even volunteered to help take the 6-year-old Initiates on a camping trip. It was his way of proving that he had no intention of letting his relationship with his Master interfere with his training.

But sometimes, in private, even perfection had to crack, and a different side of the serious, dedicated Senior Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi would make its appearance.

"I beg your pardon?" Qui-Gon said, his voice quite mild.

"If you want to know if there's tea, get off your butt and look. I'm trying to work here, while you scan the mail for sex toy catalogs." Obi-Wan's voice was surly now and he still hadn't looked up from his dataslate.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said warningly. Obi-Wan didn't look up or even acknowledge him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are willfully ignoring your Master, to whom you owe obedience," Qui-Gon said, using the soft deadly voice that usually put the fear of the Sith into reluctant students. He put his own dataslate down and flexed his hands slightly.

"And if I am?"

Qui-Gon gestured and the dataslate in Obi-Wan's hands flew across the room. "There is no 'if' involved, Padawan Kenobi. You should know the answer to that."

Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes defiant. "I know the answer."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You're just making this worse for yourself, Padawan."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes dramatically and moved off the sofa to stroll, in a lazy feline fashion, over to Qui- Gon's chair. Looking down at his Master's stern features obviously made him decide to change tactics. "I'm sorry, love," he purred. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Are you implying that you can ignore the courtesy and obedience you owe me just because of our relationship, my young Apprentice." Qui-Gon asked, wondering if he was laying it on a little thickly. But no, this was how things had to go. "I have always trusted you to do the right thing. I hope my trust was not misplaced."

Obi-Wan sighed and stood up straight, hands clasped behind his back. "Master, I deserve punishment,"

"For what, Padawan?"

"For my willful disobedience and my rudeness."

"And how should I punish you, Padawan?"

"Master, it is not my place to choose my punishment. I trust you to do whatever you think necessary."

Ha! Qui-Gon thought privately. Of course you do.

Qui-Gon rose and moved to the sofa, Obi-Wan trailing silently behind him. The Master sat down in the middle of the sofa and looked up at his Padawan. And then he patted his lap. Obi-Wan bit his lip, looking endearingly young for a moment, and then his hands went to the drawstrings of his pants. Once undone, he lowered the pants and his underwear until they reached the tops of his boots. Then, with one wide-eyed look that Qui-Gon knew was no act, he bent over his Master's lap.

Strange that he's so afraid and needs it so much, Qui- Gon thought. Then again I guess it's strange that I like doing it to him.

He moved Obi-Wan slightly, until the young man was centered on his lap, his semi-erect penis brushing one of Qui-Gon's thighs.

"Why are you here, Padawan?"

"Because I was willful, rude, and disobeyed my Master. I am here to be punished for those faults."

And with that, Qui-Gon drew his arm up and . . . smack . . . his hand came down hard on Obi-Wan's bare ass. His palm, callused from years of gripping a lightsaber hilt, stung faintly, which meant that Obi-Wan must be feeling a fair amount of pain right now. Four more hard smacks and he finally heard a low moan from his victim.

Obi-Wan already felt like his ass was on fire. And he's only at five. Another flaming slap to his ass and he squirmed slightly. Ow! Another. Ow! Another. Damn!

He lost count somewhere around forty, and at that point, he was yelling obscenities, babbling apologies, and sobbing. His cock was diamond hard, and Qui-Gon had it clasped tightly between his thighs, the soft fabric of his sleep pants abrading the delicate satin skin. Obi- Wan was hurting, and humbled, and desperately in need of release.

And the blows kept coming, one powerful slap after another. Obi-Wan could feel his skin swelling up and knew he would not only be red, but might also have bruises in the morning. It hurt, oh Sith, it hurt, but he was close, so close.

Qui-Gon looked at his lover stretched out before him, ass red/purple from a sound thrashing. He knew he could hardly pretend that he was just doing this for Obi-Wan, not when his cock was prodding his victim in the stomach. Each time he smacked Obi-Wan, the resulting movement caused him to get even harder. In fact, if he moved his hand, right there, to the crease where buttock met thigh, the resultant wriggle was incredible.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan yelled. "Oh fuck! I'm sorry." Qui- Gon had moved to the most painful part, probably some of the most sensitive skin he had. And it drove him into a frenzy of squirming, yelling and sobbing. Occasionally, when he paused to gasp for breath, he could hear his Master's breath, harsh and panting from the strain. And not just the strain, Obi-Wan was well aware of the cock his stomach was moving over. As for his own erection, he wasn't sure it could take much more.

"So fucking close!" Obi-Wan yelled.

Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and called up the last reserves of his strength. A solid rain of blows fell on the burning skin below him. His mind reached out for Obi-Wan's, to touch, light a spark and then . . .

Obi-Wan screamed, and came, pumping his cock between his Master's thighs. At the same time, Qui-Gon yelled, and came all over Obi-Wan's tunic. He slumped, turned slightly, and buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck.

They remained like that for a moment or two and then Obi-Wan drew a deep breath. "Please accept my sincere apologies for my errors, Master."

"I do, Padawan."

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Obi-Wan tied Qui-Gon, stomach down, to their bed and teased him until he broke down and begged for release. While his Master continued begging, the Padawan pounded him into the mattress, fucking him so hard that both of them passed out from their orgasms.

The next morning, Qui-Gon awoke to find a note saying that Obi-Wan had gotten up early to help the gardeners trim the labyrinth hedges. Qui-Gon sighed, smiling a little. His Obi-Wan, the perfect Padawan for the legendary Qui-Gon Jinn. At least until the next time carrying so many burdens overwhelmed one or the other of them.


End file.
